


Pillars of Existence

by VileWile



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Burning Bridge AU, Gen, abelard is a good boi, pauline is arguably the last sane person in redmont, very erratic halt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23132419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VileWile/pseuds/VileWile
Summary: Innocuous brouhahas have a curious tendency to evolve into insurmountable omnishambles. Or ineffable kerfuffles. Or horrendous chutzpahs. Call it as you will  -  there's a calamity in the making.The blame for the state of affairs may be assigned to the subtle nature of Reality. Or to the not so subtle nature of Halt.
Relationships: Halt O'Carrick & Abelard
Comments: 18
Kudos: 15





	Pillars of Existence

**Author's Note:**

> Slight B2 AU. Takes place after Chapter 8, in which Arald decided it was a good idea to send Halt an official notification of his displeasure.

**"Some men just want to watch the world burn."**

_The Dark Knight_

"Some philosophers" began a black-haired Ranger, addressing a horse's head sticking out of a window frame "believed all things are built of fire." He said, throwing another log to a burning pile and unhanging a whistling kettle from above the hearth.

"Others argued that the base element was water". He poured the kettle's content into a mug and a moment later a scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the cabin. "There was also this fellow who insisted that everything was made of vanishingly small particles, and believed diffusion of smell in the air proved him right."

Abelard's ears perked up.

"You like the idea?" asked the Ranger, supplementing the dark brown liquid with a spoonful of honey. The horse whickered softly.

"I'll tell you this, _mon ami_. I am no philosopher, but I have strong reasons to suspect the world has been crafted in equal parts from royals' ingratitude, nobles' arrogance and commoners' stupidity." He drunk a sip and frowned slightly. "Or was it perhaps royals' stupidity and commoners' ingratitude? It's increasingly hard to tell."

Suddenly, Abelard's ear shot to the side and he made an alarmed noise.

"Yes, I expect a messenger. Nothing to worry about." His master assured soothingly.

Soon enough Halt heard the hoofbeats himself, followed by a thud of a man's feet connecting with the ground and silent groans of stairs before the door.

"Come in" the Ranger said, before the man outside had a chance to knock.

He went in, with an expression of slight confusion on his face, quickly supplanted by one of utter bewilderment upon sighting Abelard's head lingering inside the cabin.

"How may I serve you?" Halt asked in his most polite tone. The messenger finally stopped gawking, grunted in embarrassment and proffered a very officially-looking scroll of parchment. "A missive from the Baron to the Ranger of Redmont" he stated hastily. He didn't like the glint that appeared in Ranger's coal-black eyes. Didn't like it at all.

"Is it, now?" To the messenger, Halt's voice sounded even deeper than usual, and he liked the edge in it no more than the glint. He felt it'd be wiser not to respond at all, so he just stuffed the parchment into Ranger's outstretched hand.

"Would you like me to wait for a reply, my lord?" He asked against himself. _Duty is duty_ he thought sourly, sighing internally.

Halt smiled. It was the most terrifying thing the man had ever seen.

"Oh yes, please. There surely _shall_ be a reply."

As soon as the messenger left to wait outside, Halt examined the seal depicting Arald's heraldic boar. He didn't really expect forgery, but then, he hardly trusted even his own face in the mirror. Of course, the seal seemed genuine enough, and untouched. He broke it carefully. "Well, well, well, let's see what sort of malarkey we have here this time...".

***

Halt put the parchment down and let himself sink in thought. It was exactly the kind of thought that deserved to be called a dangerous pastime.

Most of it was centered about the baron, but there was also a notable share regarding lady Pauline. He could see her hand in the missive, as clearly as a print of a horseshoe in fresh snow. He would have recognized it anywhere; no one else had that turn of phrase. _And you, Pauline, against me._ Pitiful as it was, if she wanted to go this way, she was entitled to her decision.

Abelard still watched him, now with a curious expression. Halt tilted his head.

"You know Abe, I've just realized my previous conjecture was incorrect. I made a mistake of trying to be too specific, for apparently the subject has nothing to do with social classes. One man such as _this_ " - he pointed toward the scroll - "is perfectly capable of exuding enough ingratitude, arrogance and stupidity to uphold the entire sinful world with his vice. And damn me, all three pillars of existence hold here as strongly as ever. Rumors about the world's upcoming demise are plainly premature and exaggerated. This miserable pit of despair has long way to go yet."

Abelard looked him straight in the eye.

"I? I'm absolutely blameless in this. Without fault. I am, as the holy book of these easterners says, literally the _salt_ of the earth. That's one thing you can't deny."

The horse just snorted and backed away, leaving a dark rectangle of night forest in his wake.

 _Victory, for once._ Halt thought with just a tinge of satisfaction. Then his gaze flipped back to the text before him and he felt his jaw clenching. Reaching for quill and inkwell, he brushed the feather as if it was a fletching of an arrow.

It was time for immaculate grammar and sophisticated wording.

***

Halt completed his great opus in the art of insult and denigration with few quick slashes across the bottom of the page, forming his signature. He was about to call the messenger back, yet something stopped him. He looked up, only to see that Abelard was back inside - or at least, his head was. The horse looked quite expectant.

_Not going to show me this? I could check your spelling._

"As if you knew anything about it" the Ranger muttered under his breath. In some desolate corner of his mind he was aware of the absurdity of the situation, but he was also afraid that at his age this condition was probably incurable.

_I know as much as you do._

"All the more reason not to do it. Means you can't offer any valuable input."

Abelard huffed. Halt paused for a moment, and began perusing the barely finished missive. Just to be certain.

He was almost done, when a loud whack reverberated through the cabin. It sounded very much like a horse kicking a wooden wall. Halt sharply raised his head, about to deliver some stern words about this kind of equine behaviour, but Abelard forestalled him.

_Didn't you forget about something?_

Halt frowned. "Like what?"

Abelard replied with the saddest 'If I don't get an apple this instant I shall surely die' look he could muster. Halt closed his eyes in resignation.

"No Abelard, if we go on like this you will outweigh this bastard of a baron. In fact, you might have already." Abelard shook his mane indignantly. "Not to mention the hell that would break loose if Will and Tug got to know. Have you ever thought about it? For gods' sake, you're a horse Abelard, you should have more sense than this".

Abelard refused to be fazed. Instead, he stared intently.

Halt sighed.

"Fine." he surrendered and stood up, taking an apple from a cupboard. "But it's the very last one and it's not negotiable." he proffered the fruit toward his voracious beast of a mount even while frowning disapprovingly. But, to the Ranger's surprise, instead of grabbing the apple with his teeth, Abelard gently pushed his hand back. Halt's frown deepened.

"What...?" Another push of the soft muzzle against the back of his hand, more pronounced this time. Followed by an encouraging nod. Finally, it clicked.

"Wait. All this fuss was about... You think that _you_ are feeding _me_ , aren't you?"

Abelard looked admittedly innocent. _Too_ innocent.

"That's ridiculous. You're my horse, not my mother."

Abelard greeted the statement with something that would surely be an eyebrow rise, if only he had an eyebrow to speak of.

_And you, sir, are a fool._

Halt blinked.

 _Did you really think I would not notice?_ Mon chéri, _you can't quite live on coffee and worry alone, can you now?_

The Ranger sent his friend a cross look, though deep down he knew he'd already lost. Moreover, he knew also that his horse was right; indeed, he hadn't felt much like eating lately. He suspected why it was so, and of course Abelard would too.

"Not only on that. There's also spite, remember?"

Abelard snorted. Halt looked at him for a while longer, and after deciding there really wasn't anything more to add, took three quick bites of the apple.

"Satisfied?"

_It will do. For now._

Halt shook his head. All he needed was for his horse to start making threats.

***

"Is there something else you'd want me to pass on to the baron, my lord?" the messenger asked. His voice sounded a tad strained.

"No. I think this contains quite enough." Halt looked fondly at the sealed scroll in his hand. Yes, the baron had quite a lecture ahead of him. He let a smug smirk creep slowly upon his face.

Then his gaze fell back on the messenger, who for some reason looked like he had just seen his own grave. Halt shook his head. _Strange folks work for the castle these days._

The messenger hurriedly took the dispatch and left displaying commendable urgency. The doors closed behind him with a familiar squeak, while the Ranger sat back in his chair seeping the lukewarm remains of his coffee.

All he had to do now was to wait for the oncoming storm.


End file.
